Part 4 (1/2)
She entered the carriage. He followed meekly and sat beside her. Where should they drive? The cabman suggested the coast road to Mentone. She agreed. On the point of starting she observed that her companion was bare-headed.
”You've forgotten your hat.”
She spoke to him as she would have done to a child.
”Why bother about hats?”
”You'll catch your death of cold. Go and get it at once.”
He obeyed with a docility which sent a little tingle of exaltation through Mrs. Middlemist. A woman may have an inordinate antipathy to men, but she loves them to do her bidding. Zora was a woman; she was also young.
He returned. The cabman whipped up his strong pair of horses, and they started through the town towards Mentone.
Zora lay back on the cus.h.i.+ons and drank in the sensuous loveliness of the night--the warm, scented air, the velvet and diamond sky, the fragrant orange groves--the dim, mysterious olive trees, the looming hills, the wine-colored, silken sea, with its faint edging of lace on the dusky sweep of the bay. The spirit of the South overspread her with its wings and took her amorously in its arms.
After a long, long silence she sighed, remembering her companion.
”Thank you for not talking,” she said softly.
”Don't,” he replied. ”I had nothing to say. I never talk. I've scarcely talked for a year.”
She laughed idly.
”Why?”
”No one to talk to. Except my man,” he added conscientiously. ”His name is Wiggleswick.”
”I hope he looks after you well,” said Zora, with a touch of maternal instinct.
”He wants training. That's what I am always telling him. But he can't hear.
He's seventy and stone-deaf. But he's interesting. He tells me about jails and things.”
”Jails?”
”Yes. He spent most of his time in prison. He was a professional burglar--but then he got on in years. Besides, the younger generation was knocking at the door.”
”I thought that was the last thing a burglar would do,” said Zora.
”They generally use jemmies,” he said gravely. ”Wiggleswick has given me his collection. They're very useful.”
”What for?” she asked.
”To kill moths with,” he replied dreamily.
”But what made you take a superannuated burglar for a valet?”
”I don't know. Perhaps it was Wiggleswick himself. He came up to me one day as I was sitting in Kensington Gardens, and somehow followed me home.”
”But, good gracious,” cried Zora--forgetful for the moment of stars and sea--”aren't you afraid that he will rob you?”